(Note: This lecture was given at Manchester Metropolitan University in April 2025 around the topic "Contemporary Art and why it matters". It was received poorly)
“Art has never been more popular. A person will see more art
in a day than a person a century ago would see in their lifetime. We are
surrounded by art, so much so, it has invaded almost every aspect of our lives
and is as normal as the sun shining.”
And so stood the art student, placing a hand on his chin,
curling a lip and asking “What is art?” before sitting back down again, congratulated
by his peers.
“Oh, you mean you don’t know? Look at that guy, he doesn’t
even know what art is.”
The audience then burst into laughter and applause, which became
a seventeen minute standing ovation. Once they have settled down, I hitch a leg
up on a chair and point behind me with a thumb jutting from my fist.
“Everything’s art. Anyone can be an artist. We settled that
already. The real question is; is it any good?”
The crowd begins to murmur between themselves, asking
ChatGPT what to say next. Another art student stands up, saying something so
quietly that the sound doesn’t escape past his lips. A microphone attached to a
robotic arm whizzes over above his head.
“-so who’s to actually say what’s good or bad?” he finished.
I sigh. I slap my forehead and slick my hair back with sweat.
“Nobody can say if art is good or bad as it can’t be
measured, unlike gravity, which is bad or like speed, which is good. Whatever a
person’s view is on art is their opinion, and it is fun to talk to somebody who
has seen the same art as you and hear what they thought about it.”
“Hey wiseguy.” Another student. “Who’s better at art then,
Leonardo da Vinci or a monkey?”
“Bro is going to say the same.” Another student whispered.
“Watch, he’s going to say it.”
“Our culture is obsessed with better than or worse than. Top
ten lists. Power levels. Oscar awards. Does it matter if Leonardo da Vinci is
better than a monkey? Can we not view the art of either and see their unique
qualities, to gain a deeper understanding into our own lives?”
“Leonardo da Vinci is the best artist. Mona Lisa. End of.”
“Well you can’t really-“
“End of.” said the student again. The witless audience had
now turned on me, screaming and laughing at the Mona Lisa fan.
“Is the best artist the most popular?”
“Yes.” The auditorium said in unison.
“Well, that brings me back to my point earlier, I feel art
has become quantified in such a way, measured in followers and likes, listens,
views, whatever, and then awarded by the platforms which they exist on, through
profit shares from advertising, sponsorship, and so on, that this is the
environment which we should understand contemporary art and how that reflects our
current society.”
One member of the audience pretends to snore loudly, but I
press on.
“Art reflects the world from which it is created. The Sistine
Chapel, Guernica, War of the Worlds, Pokemon, art can only be created in the
environment from which it comes into existence. And so I ask you, what is the
art from this era? What famous works can you think of from the last decade?
Anything?”
The audience mumbled amongst themselves, again going onto
their phones to ask ChatGPT.
“Stranger Things.”
“A tv show embedded with contemporary iconography of the 80s
on a service designed by Silicon Valley where you rent things. The eighties
didn’t actually look like that, you know? Everyone smoked and neon was never
that bright.”
“Unc can remember the 80s.”
“Anything else?”
“Coffin dance meme.”
“Great suggestion. A video of dancing Ghanaian pallbearers
set to Dutch house music during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic.”
“So what you’re saying is, memes can be like, art?”
“Like I said five minutes ago, anything can be. Some in the
audience suggested that popularity was a signifier of art being good, and so
the most popular meme of an age will be how that time is remembered.”
“So what you’re saying is, people in the future will
remember this time as Skibidi Toilet?”
“As I cunningly alluded to earlier, the way the present is
felt can be quite different from how that time is viewed later. The aesthetics
of what we think of when we think of the eighties almost entirely stems from
Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. When future generations create art set in this
time period, they will draw heavily on its popular artforms. Which is,
advertising, video games and memes.”
“Bro said advertising was art.”
“You win the internet today, sir!” shouted a guy at the
back. I slammed a hand into my lectern.
“If you listen to me rather than thinking of what to interrupt
me with, maybe you’ll learn something, right? Isn’t this why you’re all here?”
a camera flash goes off in the audience. Somebody starts filming me on Tik Tok
live.
“Prof is crashing out!” laughed someone. My head sunk down.
“Advertising combines images and words to deliver an idea to
the viewer, in this instance, to buy it. There is a billion dollar industry of
collecting items in their original packaging, so much so that its contents
cease to matter and the packaging is wrapped in further packaging to protect
that. Of course advertising is art, you are just too weak to admit that
whatever ideas you have about what art should be bear any resemblance to actual
art.” I say, my voice quieting to a whisper. The audience all lean forward.
“You know I am speaking the truth. That art has been
hijacked by capitalism, as everything else has in our present. Why does a
gallery ask you for your Instagram details? It is not a website for a portfolio
but a way for artistic quality to be measured. Popularity begets popularity.
Your follower numbers are put onto a spreadsheet so they can be measured
against other artists, filtered by the biggest number to ensure any exhibition
is popular and acts as an advertisement that the gallery is relevant. Feedback
forms, digital tickets, Excel spreadsheets, more numbers to show funding bodies
as the bigger the number, the better the show.”
“Say now, that’s not fair. Loads of art is in galleries that
barely anyone sees. The curator might like them or its just right that work is
shown.” Says another member of the audience. I sigh.
“Of course that happens. But I am not saying everything that
happens in existence as I want to make a point, okay? Do I need to acknowledge
the history of Mesopotamian sculpture, the works of Hegel, the effects of World
War 2, the invention of the ballpoint pen? Or can I get on with my lecture?”
“Continue.”
“You have sold your attention to the lowest bidder. I bet if
I asked anyone here to come up with a playlist of music to go and pick grandma
up from the airport, you would fold like an envelope. And before you interrupt again,
I am talking about a list of music you would put together, not the Spotify algorithm.”
“Hey man, I’m a DJ and I could come up with a playlist for
any occasion.”
“Do you want a medal? That is the essence of a DJ. If you
couldn’t do that, you wouldn’t be a DJ. But how much of what you choose would
be things you have found, in boxes in charity shops, car boots, friends houses?
Huh?”
“Well actually all of it, I specialise in back to back sets
of Hungarian classical pieces for flute and rare Barry Manilow twelve inches. I
do the second Friday of every month at an ironic café.”
“Then you’ve got me. My entire argument is ripped to shreds.
I am obsolete. I think I’ll take my leave and reflect on the direction my life
is going.” I said, picking up my jacket that I had thrown on the floor. “Just
before I go, can I ask you one question?”
“Spill the tea, jellybean.”
“What was the last film you watched?”
“Guardians of the Galaxy 2.” He said, and the crowd suddenly
hushes. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Did you watch that on Blu-Ray?”
“Disney plus.”
“So you see, in one area you actively engage your agency as
somebody who collects and plays records, but when it comes to film, you’re
basically like a pig eating slop, just whatever is in front of you, you’ll chew
it up?”
“It’s a good movie! It’s about fatherhood!”
“I wouldn’t care if its about the Treaty of Versailles, the
context from which is exists and goes to support is primarily capitalistic. This
isn’t me remarking on the quality of Guardians of the Galaxy 2, but surely even
you can see, it is also a product made by a billion dollar company.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing is wrong with that.” I said, pinching the top of my
nose. “I am not saying any of this is good or bad or worse or better. I am
saying it how it is, and it is your interpretation of how things are that then
dictate its qualities. Come on, even dogs understand this.”
“So what you’re saying is, that the world we live in is
almost entirely dictated by capitalism and it is through the lens of capital
that we create and understand art and that the way in which we quantify and
measure quality is also inherently capitalistic?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“What is this, an improv class? That’s it, that’s the
lecture.” I said. The audience turns to each other, confused.
“Yeah, we know all that.”
“Doesn’t the knowledge that everything you create will be
uploaded to a website for a little number to go up, and likely not exist in ten
years, make you feel something?”
“What’s the alternative? Do you expect the next generation
of artists to somehow overthrow the system, do basket weaving workshops in
villages, survive off stolen bread and rainwater? We cannot blame a person for
engaging in a system of oppression just as much as we can’t expect a medieval
peasant to rise up and get rid of a king. The mode of control, whether it be
divine, regal or capital, doesn’t matter. Artists respond to their surroundings
and create work that reflects that. You are asking us to be revolutionaries,
yet we are more interested in making art.” Said one art student, who had gone
on for quite a while. The robotic arm holding the microphone kept moving away
before being pulled back as they had continued.
“An artist may make the soundtrack to a revolution, design
clothing for the oppressed, create forty two hour long video essays about the Beverly
Hillbillies, but it is the people that make the change.” Added another student.
“Yeah, if you want artists to be revolutionaries, you should
give us the tools to do so!”
“Shush!” I shush them all. “Never in my life have I been so interrupted.
I have been brought here to deliver a lecture and instead I am squabbling with
reactionary buffoons offended at the idea that someone might have a thought. At
the risk of repeating myself, your perspective that artists should do this or
that in response to my statements are absurd drivel. I will not, I shall not,
listen any longer to your foolishness. Now if you will be so kind as to listen
to my closing statement, I shall leave this auditorium post-haste and not take
a glance over my shoulder back at you wretches all huddling around a single
braincell as if it were a candle in midwinter. May I finish?” I said, my face
turning bright red. I realised tears had welled up in my eyes and so stretched
my lids wide apart so that the surface tension wouldn’t break and I would have
been revealed as a crybaby on top of everything else.
Instead, there were no tears. The audience had settled down.
I rolled my jacket round my hands and sat on the floor. The tide of adrenaline
had crashed and was now on the retreat, making me feel incredibly sleepy. I
clutched at my body for the microphone, yanking it from the little box attached
to my belt and spoke directly into it as if God himself was speaking.
“Have you…Have you ever wondered why AI art is a thing?
Like, what’s the deal with AI art? If people wanted a drawing of something,
they could have asked, you know?” I said, laughing at my own joke. “But, yeah.
Like, it’s marketing for AI, isn’t it? They knew people wouldn’t like AI if it replaced
their job or anything. AI art is a marketing stunt by billionaires, that’s why
they’re putting so much money into it. You see some AI art, it doesn’t really
matter, does it? Its like someone else telling you their dream. No, the main
thing is, you know an AI did it. That’s what it is, it’s like, art is being
used to propagandise AI. You get that, right? That’s obvious. At least, it’s
kinda obvious to me. You know?” I said. Then I walked away, never to see any of
them again.
